Kill or Be Killed
by Scorchy-11
Summary: Everything can be distorted by the ripples caused by the breeze of life.


A/n: It's been too long since I've written. This is because my computer decided on an untimely time to crash…taking with it everything on my computer.

It was a major hard drive failure and it's **all **gone. Included in all is my TBBB outline. I don't really have the heart to recreate and continue right now maybe in a long while but if any wants to take over feel free.

I felt like writing something though so here goes.

HBP SPOILERS

**Kill or Be Killed**

Harry Potter sat by the edge of a crystalline lake somewhere in the midst of the Canadian Rockies. A cool, crisp summer breeze caressed his face and caused the dark water to ripple distorting the half moon's reflection. If Harry had been where he was under different circumstances the whole scene would have been serene and picturesque.

But the circumstances made it anything but.

Nearly nine years had passed since the fateful eve on which Albus Dumbledore was cruelly stabbed in the back and cursed off the tallest tower at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, resulting in his death. In that time Harry had managed to find and secure all but two of Lord Voldemort's horcruxes, one stored in an object and one stored within Tom himself.

Here in the Rocky Mountains Harry suspected the prior of the two was hidden. The list of horcruxes to find was short but the nine years Harry had spent finding and destroying them had been long. In that time Harry had disappeared from the wizarding world. He never returned back to Hogwarts and he had faked his own death in a tragic car crash. Harry smiled at the irony of the memory, though the smile was small, sad, and didn't reach his nose never mind his eyes.

No one, not even his friends, knew he was actually alive and well…or as well as someone who didn't know which of those he cared for were dead or not, had been through massive amounts of grotesque torture, and had been living as Sirius had after his escape from the dreaded prison of Azkaban could be. Okay, so maybe he couldn't be classified as "well" but he was alive wasn't he?

Or was he? Some would say yes. He moved, talked, breathed, slept, ate and drank (when he could) and therefore was amongst the living. Those people would be considered incredibly naïve. Harry Potter was now no more alive then He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He had had very sparse human contact and hadn't had a decent meal for the past nine years. Plus he currently knew very little but what his job was, in fact it made him seem machine-like. Kill Voldemort. Avenge the fallen. But then what? If he succeeded what would he do then?

He didn't allow himself time to think of it. He worried if he did think on it then he might start feeling again maybe even begin to hope…this was something that couldn't be risked, he felt, for if he started to feel, to care, he would no longer be able to continue with his job and all it entailed. He knew his job had to be completed at all costs.

Harry let himself fall tiredly against one of the many tall dark shapes that could only be presumed as trees. He listened to sound of the water lapping at the shoreline, the breeze whispering through every needle on the tall pines, and the occasional rustling of a mountain animal.

Harry was an extremely different person at the age of twenty-five then he had been at the age of sixteen. Sure, he would still be recognizable by sight, a fact that had been put to the test multiple times each resulting in the unfortunate death of the unlucky witch or wizard. He still had the messy, ebony, hair…given it was _much_ longer then it had been nine years ago (it'd been a while since he had had time for a haircut), he still had the scar and the startling emerald green eyes. However, he no longer wore glasses. He had gotten his eyesight corrected by muggle doctors in America just over a year into his journey. He found everything much simpler without having to worry about the metal frames that used to be the keys to his sight.

But, that was where the similarities ended. Harry had now cast what he felt was every dark and light spell in the book, including the Unforgivables, and used all the different magical means available. He was tired on every plane, mental, physical, and spiritual, he was worn by his battle and also made weary by it, he was a cold, calculating, killer when all points were boiled down and he wasn't sure if upon his return to the wizarding world after Voldie's death and his confession of all events whether they would attempt to put him in Azkaban or praise and hero-worship him.

Harry let out a muted, dry, laugh at the thought of the ministry trying to sentence him to Azkaban. He'd kill them all then retire from the wizarding world permanently. The hero-worship made him almost just as sick. He wasn't sure if he would stay either way, the magical society held too many horrible memories. More horrible memories then any one soul should have to endure in a single lifetime. There was enough pain in Harry's life to kill most, weak _or_ strong. Yet he kept going through the motions and continuing his half-life of sorts, intent on his one task and that one task alone.

Harry Potter watched as the sun began to rise over the distant mountain's cliffs. He watched as a pastel color palette played out on the sky and the lake shone and sparkled with light and life. The dark trees now stood tall and proud in all their evergreen glory and the sporadic mountain animal could now been seen as they darted within the trees and soared through the sky, which was now turning the most brilliant of blues illuminated by the sun's bright light and not inhibited by any clouds in any way.

Harry closed his eyes and listened to the birds' warbling, magnificent song before rising and getting ready to continue his task. After all, a place as beautiful as this had to be hiding the nastiest and most gruesome evil within. He smiled again and this time it reached his eyes. But the smile was not what one would describe as happy. If his old friends were to see this expression on his face they would have been both troubled and shocked by it…it was…evil, malevolent even. And then it was gone and the man who was once a boy named Harry Potter made his way into the forest to a find a horcrux and to bring himself closer to the final battle in which he would face his greatest fear… his return to his life…was once again learning to be Harry Potter and not just the Boy-Who-Lived. There would be death, dying, and killing at the battle. But this didn't faze him anymore. He had long since grown accustomed to the mantra of his fate.

**Kill or Be Killed**

A/n: Just to clear things up I think there is more then meets the eye in HBP and that Snape hasn't really gone back to the Dark Lord. Hope you all liked it…review please:)


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